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“I—”
“Abi?” another voice says, and I turn to find Ethan approaching us, wearing a deep frown.
“Ethan.”
“What’s going on, Scott?” Elliot asks.
Scott.
His brother.
I should have realised but I feel completely blindsided.
Scott sits back in the booth, grinning like a criminal mastermind watching his master plan in action. “I told Ethan to stop by so you could settle up with him.”
“Scott,” Elliot says in a low warning, and I glance between them, trying to work out what I’m missing. Because something is going on, something I don’t understand.
“Look, mate,” Ethan holds up his hands. “I’m not sure what’s going on, but Scott said if I stopped by tonight you would settle up what you owe me because you no longer need me to?—”
“Don’t.” Elliot growls and I finally snap out of it.
“Settle up?” I ask, looking to Ethan. Guilt flashes in his eyes and my stomach tumbles. “Ethan? What’s going on? What do you mean, settle up what Elliot owes you? What does he owe you?”
“Fuck, Abi, I didn’t… I don’t. Shit.” He glances to Elliot, but I force myself not to look at him yet. I need Ethan to tell me the truth.
“Do you want to tell her or should I?” he asks Elliot.
“Scott,” the girl beside him hisses. “What have you done?—”
“Relax, babe.” He smirks right at me. “It seems my soft-hearted brother here paid Ethan to befriend Miss Bancroft after she developed an unhealthy little crush on Elliot and he rejected her.”
I flinch at his cruel words. The truth behind them. But more than that, I wince at the betrayal shattering through me.
He paid Ethan.
Elliot paid Ethan to be my friend.
Oh my God.
I clutch my throat feeling utterly exposed.
“So pathetic,” the blonde rolls her eyes at me before sipping on her expensive looking cocktail, like I’m not worth her time or the interruption of what is clearly a double date. “For God’s sake, Elliot, just pay him so we can move on from this little soap drama.”
“Yes, Brother. Why don’t you pay up? What was it you agreed on? A meagre two hundred quid?”
“Uh, it was five actually,” Ethan pipes up, and I stare at him incredulously. “No hard feelings, yeah. You’re an all right girl and everything but I needed the money and well, nobody says no to an Eaton.”
I look at Elliot for some kind of explanation, anything to undo this nightmare.
But he just stares through me, saying nothing.
What is even happening right now?
“I-I should go,” I rush out, the walls of the upmarket pub closing in around me.
I can’t breathe.
Oh, God, I can’t breathe.
